


A Witch's Favor

by A_Writing_Pen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 04:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17822234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Writing_Pen/pseuds/A_Writing_Pen
Summary: A countess hunts a witch. A hunter and demon conspire. The undead tire of their immortal state. The Witch of the Wilde has always been a source of fear. When her enemies new and old start to converge on her, she calls on the favors she long sowed to call her allies to her aid, but the battle will leave the city in ruins.





	A Witch's Favor

Amélie’s horse shivered as she waited for the city gates to open. At the urgency of the king’s letter, she had ridden quickly through the night and several days travel, nearly exhausting her horse on the way. Nightfall had brought the cold quickly andin the time she had waited her horse had cooled from the heat of exertion, yet the gates of Alderbraum remained shut to her. She was growing frustrated.

The sentries posted at the towers should have signaled her presence as soon as she was in sight. The cold hardly bothered her, but her horse was starting to become agitated. While she rarely used her old title anymore, the complaint of a Comtesse could more than end the careers and livelihood of a few guards. Eventually she grew tired of waiting for something to happen and dismounted her horse to knock then shout until someone heard her.

She was tempted to turn back and quit her visit altogether, King’s request be damned, when the gates finally opened. On the other side stood the citywatch waiting for her. The sentries had not been neglecting their duties, they had been watching to see what she would do.

“I’m expected,” presenting the royal seal as proof.

The soldiers stepped aside to let a single person through. From the armor and the way they differed to her, Amélie surmised that this must be the Captain. On her armor and the shield she carried at her side, she could see the Alderbraum crest and another family sigil, but could not place where she knew it from. The Captain examined the seal, then believing it’s authenticity, waved to the towers above for the archers to lower their weapons. They had been hidden by the high walls and dark of the night where Amélie could not see them.

“Of course,” said the guard, “I was sent to fetch you.” She handed back the letter.

“And you waited until you were good and ready,” Her tone was cold, and the Captain made a face, but let the comment slide. Instead she ordered her guards to clear a path..

This was far too many guards for a simple entourage. The small infantry was enough was more suited to an enemy combatant. Just who they expected to be knocking on their door, Amélie had no idea but had little patience to care. As the path cleared, Amélie took her time gathering her horse. They had made her wait, so she would make them wait in turn. Mounting her horse again, she had the feeling so sharp and intense that someone was watching her. She looked over her shoulder into the darkness of the woods.

The Captain coughed, but she ignored her. Amélie’s eyesight was better, her instincts sharper than theirs. But she could see nothing in the woods. At last she relented then urged her horse through the gate and past the guards.

As soon as she was through, the guards resealed the gate behind her. The remaining guards began to split away to their appropriate duties and only the Captain stayed with her.

“If you’ll please excuse the wait. As you can see we have not been able to spare the man power,” The Guard Captain gestured to the men at work on the gate and along the wall.

The tension in the guards was certainly something she understood. These were soldiers preparing for combat, but uncertain of what kind. Looking at what she could of the city, they were not prepared enough. Some of the shops shuddered their windows and barricaded their doors. A few had had figures and signs of protection and warding off curses. It seemed very much that the city was preparing for some kind of attack. But that was the city’s problem; Amelie only cared about her work.

“Take me to the king,” she said and waited for the Captain to start walking.

On the path to the palace, the streets were deserted. She assumed a curfew was in place. The lanterns were lit but there were no people. Amélie rather liked the quiet, disliking crowd and people alike. By the saw the King in his throne room, there had been seen no other soul.

“Thank you for answering my call in our time of need,” he said

He was a tired man, well greyed in the beard and one eye clouded over with a battle scar from his soldiering years. With a wave, he dismissed the Captain, named Brigette, and stepped down from the throne.

It was still difficult to see him as king. He looked ill-fitted as king, from the suit that visibly restricted on his broad shoulders and the crown that pinched at the head . The King of Aldebaran once had a reputation as a warrior, before the title finally feel to him after the death of his brothers. She thought the role of warrior must have suited him better, right down to the fit of his clothes.

Before he start the formalities, she cut him off.

“I want to hear about the Witch,” she said.

“Yes, of course,” he relaxed his shoulders.

Again she felt the eyes on her, but not aa soul was with her besides the king.

The Witch of the Wilds was well known as was the trouble she often caused the city. Outside of its borders, the most known was the story about her was that of the mad doctor, who with the Witch’s favor, nearly destroyed the entire city. Years had passed since then, but the townspeople still scared their children with stories of the event and most unfortunate outcomes were blamed on her. The breaking point was a recent outbreak of illness. No person had died, but several became fatigued and bedridden for days. Cattle and livestock were found dead in their stables or pens without any clear reason as to why. It had spread unnaturally quickly, leaving strange marks and rashes on those afflicted, and many referenced glowings orbs of light before they grew sick. Almost immediately The Witch was to blame. The King feared that it was only a warning.

“What makes you so certain it was her?” Plenty of famines and disasters had been blamed on witches and monsters that never existed. Any hunter worth her salt would care to know the difference.

The King took his time before answering.

“We threatened to burn down her part of the forest.” He said, “The outbreak stopped when I called my men back from the area.”

There were more recent occurrences that corroborated her claim. Members of the citywatch claimed to see her for the first time in years in the mad scientist’s tower. When soldiers were sent to investigate, the plans of Junkenstein’s Monster were left out for them to see. Those plans had been ordered destroyed after the scientist’s defeat. Some of the men had been present during the original incident and their experiences had confirmed matched what had happened on that night. Others noted activity late at night in the old graveyard and the grounds keeper reported that several of the graves had been dug up. It sparked a panic about a return of the doctor’s army.

Amélie listened, showing no emotion throughout the story.

“Was I the only one you contacted?” She said.

“Well,” The King hesitated, confused at her question, “There were others, but none of them responded.”

“Who?”

“We sent a letter to the Gunslinger, but never heard an answer. The Demon Hunter, well, her demands were…extreme.”

She looked at him with an unblinking focus that eventually the King had to look away, slumping his shoulders like he was collapsing onto himself.

“We sincerely need the help,” He said quietly.

Amélie clasped her hands, having decided

“I’ll take on the hunt, but there are some parameters I want to negotiate,” She said.

She would work alone. No one in the capital was to interfere with her work or inquire about her methods. Her price would be paid in gold, not silver. She would use her own steed, but needed to be properly cared for while she investigated. Room and board would be required, and no one was to disturb her during the day. Above all, she required full access to the lands and her investigation was to be completely uninhibited.

The King agreed to each of her demands, especially once she listed her price. Apparently she low balled it compared to the Demon Hunter. She was free to begin immediately, and as she stood up from the table Amélie felt the keen anticipation of the hunt humming in her ears.

 

***

The change of season always left Gabriel feeling nostalgic. He could no longer feel the change of temperature on his skin, or what passed for his skin, but the changing color of the trees was enough to stir the recollection of cool weather. He longed for the body he once had, for the man he once was. Inevitably at this time of year he wandered back to the cemetery, but this time more than nostalgia prompted his return.

As he stepped onto the grounds, his cloak caught on the untended tree roots that were beginning to upset a line of tombstones. There was no one to see the flash of skin. Flesh perpetually rotting reviving, like an amalgam of the dead below and living above. With a harsh hand he closed his cloak and walked the familiar path through the headstones.

The cemetery was almost as he remembered, except that someone had disturbed the graves. Grave robbers were well known to target the freshly buried, so the townspeople had long taken to using a new graveyard closer to the city. If not the bodies themselves weren’t targets, than the gold rings or teeth of the dead were stolen. It left a ghastly mess all around, but most grave robbers wouldn’t go to all this trouble.

Nearly every grave was dug up. Rich and poor, long dead and freshly buried were all pulled from the dirt. Gabriel found the grave markers he had been looking for. They were simple stones, cut of the same style for the war dead. The only thing that made them distinct from one another were the names inscribed, one of which was his own. The coffins within had been empty since the day the graves were filled, and they were the only ones in the entire cemetery left alone.

Only a handful of people knew and two of them had disappeared for all he knew. Tied around his own gravestone was a tattered blue scarf. The edges were frayed, but as still as bright as the day he gave it as a gift.

“What have you been up to, Jack?”

***

The Witch watched the Huntress arrive in the city through the eyes of a raven. She watched from the branches of the trees as the gates opened then locked behind her as she finally entered the city. She watched every step of her procession through the eyes of a stray cat, shop windows, the brass door knocker on a home and a number of enchanted surfaces and familiars she had placed years ago.

Her particular favorite was the glass crystals in the chandelier that hung high above the King’s throne room, giving her the best spot to spy on the heart of the palace. Every detail spoken in that room she heard as if she were sitting with them. Many hunters in the past had come for her, but none had been close to successful so far. Still that did not mean the Witch could take the threat lightly. Preparation had always been her saving grace, a step ahead could be the distance she needed to save her neck. As she listened, Angela started to formulate a plan.

“Spying again?” said the suit of armor that stood by the wall. It bloomed to life, sustained by a ghostly flame that filled the spaces between the inert metal. The faceplate was pulled up, showing the face of a woman, detailed as if she stood in flesh and blood. Even the tattoo outlined under her right eye came through in the flame.

While her visage was in the room, Fareeha was well past the city, checking the warding spells placed on the edge of their land. She was projecting her spirit through the armor, her form almost as vivid as if she were in the room.

“My spying is hardly different from yours,” Angela said.

The armor walked across the room, taking a good look at the cauldron Angela projected the sights of her enchanted surfaces

“I told you you were prodding them too much,” Fareeha said, “Now they’re truly afraid of you, especially after your last trick”

“It wasn’t even a real plague,” Angela waved her hand. She had placed a mild hex on the drinking water, just enough to make some tame but irritating boils and rashes. Enough to let them know she didn’t appreciate the King threatening to burn her alive in her own home. None of the people died, and the livestock could be replenished after a season. It was a greater mercy than he was willing to grant her. Still, her spell shouldn’t have cause the fatigue, and neither of them knew what was the cause. That was why Fareeha had been looking for evidence of another witch.

“Real enough,” said Fareeha.

“How goes your trip?” Angela said changing the subject.

They had argued this point enough that they both know where they would lead. Fareeha didn’t approve of her little games with the city, while Angela was certain to never give them up. The boils and rashes faded away and those that were bed bound were soon back to work within the week. Her point had been made. Her forest was not burned, but the King had hired a hunter instead. She didn’t want to admit Fareeha had a point.

The Huntress had enough of a reputation to not be taken lightly. Still Angela was more intrigued than worried. Though she looked crossed, she knew Fareeha felt the same. She was smiling after all.

“I did have a new spell in mind I wanted to try out.” Fareeha said.

A familiar cloud of smoke began to enter the room, creeping through the door and the crack of the window. The candles flickered a moment as the smoke gathered and concentrated. In a moment the smoke became a man. His cloak and mask were as solid as if the transformation had never happened

“Just in time Gabriel,” Angela said, ‘’They’ve brought a new hunter to the city.”

 

“We have more problems then that,” His voice echoed from behind the mask as he began to tell the story of what he saw in the cemetery, including the two graves left undisturbed. He said nothing about the scarf. The witches listened intently. Like with the city, the warding spells along the forest should have warned them of anyone entering and leaving. Someone was acting freely in their land without their knowledge.

“I’ll investigate and see if I can find any traces of magic in the graveyard,” Fareeha said, “after we’ll need a plan.”

The armor stood still then dimmed as the fire died. In the darkened room, Angela clasped her hands and thought a while, long enough that Gabriel was uncertain if she should stay or go.“I have some favors that are long overdue,” She said at last.

***

The burn of Satya’s wrist was enough to distract her from her research. Ever since she had taken on the dragonfire, nothing could burn her. Except, it seemed, the calling of a favor long forgotten. She put down her book and recalled a detail she had been told earlier.

“Alderbraum turned down your fee,” She said.

Olivia looked up from her prototype, trying to find the defect that prevented it from working. Her work station was covered in odd gadgets and tools in different stages of tinkering. The clutter and disarray contrasted to Satya’s organized and while kept workspace, her notes and diagrams organized and neat. Their work methods were at a contrast, but somehow coexisting under the same roof.

“What can I say, not everyone can afford me,” She answered smiling with pride.

“Did they mention why they wanted your help?”

“The Witch was causing them trouble again so I gave them an impossible rate. They didn’t feel like talking much after that.”

Their home was small, fairly out of the way and impossible to stumble upon by accident. All the better when working on forbidden research. The texts in their library alone would be enough to launch an inquisition against them. Access to that research had come at a cost, and Satya felt it on her wrist where the Witch placed her mark years ago.

With a hop, Olivia sat on the table where Satya had been writing notes as she read through an old scroll. Her face was smudged from the oil of her machines, the lenses she used to read runes and enchantments sat on her head. She reshuffled her papers but didn’t reach for the ones Olivia knocked over. The heavy tomes and scrolls stayed where they were. Olivia asked to look at her wrist and examined it intently. By training, Olivia knew of a great deal of oddities and afflictions involving demons, it came with her profession as well as natural curiosity. The later had put her in conflict with her order, until she stolen their most secret of documents and disappeared into the night.

Then she grabbed her hand and kissed the mark.

“Endearing, but not solving the issue at hand.” Satya said.

“No, in order to do that you have to answer her call.” she wrapped wrapped her hands around Satya’s “Soon too. I can’t kiss your hand anymore if it falls off.”

“Someone’s outside and moving closer.” Satya said.

As they spoke, Satya sensed one of her sentries being destroyed. The second began its attack. It was destroyed, not as quickly, but the activation of the third meant the intruder was still advancing.

The door burst open As a man dressed all in black, stood, leveling a gun at her. The sigil on his hat and chest bore the symbol of the church, a sign of his authority to kill any manner of accursed beings..

Satya had no doubt he could take the shot, it would be harder to miss from such a close distance. She also knew that once Olivia had cloaked herself she could never be detected until she choose to. He didn’t even notice the runes appearing on his body.

The gun was pointed at her but before he couldn’t pull the trigger, the Gunslinger found he could no longer feel or move his hand. From the shadows Olivia revealed herself and in far too quick work he ended up on the floor with Olivia sitting on his back..

He bucked and tried to stand up, but found that whatever spell had disabled his arm was beginning to paralyze the rest of his limbs. In another moment he was completely immobilized.

“You cursed me,” He said, unable to turn his head to look at her.

“It’ll wear off in a bit”

Satya laughed at the little display. “This is quite a situation.”

Olivia knew her spell would wear off quickly. Satya took his gun away while Olivia looked for hidden weapons. She found daggers, the typical potions and poisons, bandages, and his ledger. What she also found were wolfsbane, far more than necessary for simple warding, and most telling was that she found no silver on him.

“Toss me that candle holder,” Olivia said.

She gave her a look but handed her the candle holder from the table. It was made completely of silver. As soon as he saw it, the hunter began trying to fight her off but it was useless. Rolling up his sleeve, the silver burned his skin the moment it touched him.

“He’s cursed,” She took the candle holder away.

They both bound him. By the time they placed him in a wooden chair, his movement had already begun to come back, but now had to contend with the ropes that bound his limbs. One problem was dealt with, but they still had to figure out just what to do with him. Satya set up sentries around, so if he should escape, it wouldn’t be very far.

Olivia flipped through his ledger, not paying attention to his scowling. Occasionally she would comment or make a noise, but it was overdone enough to be obvious she was needling him. They both knew a hunter’s ledger was their life’s work. Olivia’s was kept in the drawer of her desk, Satya had seen it enough times as they exchanged notes with their research. From the years she had spent in her own pursuits, Satya understood would sooner die than let someone destroy her work, and the hunter likely felt the same. She also thought he should have picked another home.

“He was bitten by a werewolf,” Olivia said at last, “It happened months ago. He’s kept detailed notes about his symptoms.”

His glare turned from hostile to rabid. The man looked rugged and rough, but he kept categorized and detailed notes. He listed all the remedies he tried in great detail, right down to the awful taste.

“But why would he come here?”

“Cause even cursed I’m still a hunter” He said. It was the first time he had spoken since he was captured.

“Not much of one,” Olivia said..

“I didn’t turn on no oath to live with a demon,” He said, eyeing Satya as he said it, “I might be cursed, but that’s only until I get a tooth of hers to undue it.”

Olivia didn’t even try to hold back a snort. She laughed right in front of his face.

“You realize I’m not a true dragon?”

He reddened. “I didn’t know that at the time.”

“It wouldn’t work anyway,” said Olivia, casually flipping through the ledger still. He told her to drop it, but she ignored him. “You need a demon talon. The older the better. We could make the potion for you if you get it for us.”

He paused, taken aback, “And I’m just supposed to trust you?”

“We could always just bury you instead,” Said Satya.

He thought over his words carefully then, before he spoke again “So I’m supposed to just work for you until I get my cure?” How do I know you don’t got an ulterior motive or just stab me in the back once I’m done?”

“You don’t.” They both said flatly.

He thought long and hard about his situation. He knew he wasn’t getting a fair deal, but it was the only one he had. They set him free on the edge of the property, he found his weapons and belonging yet farther wrapped in a bag. He was puzzled at first, how they could have left his weapons ahead of him when they had walked with him all the way until they let him go.

As they watched the gunslinger leave into the night, the two women spoke to each other.

“You know a demon’s talon won’t do anything for him,” said Satya.

“He doesn’t know that.”

She glanced at Satya’s wrist where the mark still glowed.

“We should see what she wants.”

***

Amélie had spent three days in Alderbraum but still had no leads on the Witch’s location. She wasn’t used to sitting around, far less so after hitting wall after wall of dead ends. After hearing rumors about activity, she investigated the graveyard and found the open graves. While rumor and superstition spread once the town people heard, she could find no meaning in it.

Theories and speculations abounded, but none that she could follow up on. She had resorted to looking through old documents and reports of past incidents of the Witch’s activity. The reports went back years and years; ranging from run of the mill curses and superstitions the peasantry blamed on her to the well-known Junkenstein incident. There was no pattern and likely most of them were fabricated or over speculation. It seemed unlikely she’d find anything useful.

The longer she went without any leads, the further her target got. And the more she proved that she was second rate. She was never second rate. It did limit her that she could only move around and nightfall, but at least she could walk the streets uninhibited by the towns folk.

With no leads of where the Witch was now, she decided it was best to investigate her known sightings.

The mortuary had been abandoned years ago. A new medical school had been built where the students studied, untouched by the carnal experiments that once happened in these halls. Amélie had to pry the boarded door open in order to enter the building. The dust and long dead torches meant there had not been another soul here in just as long. She had studied the old maps and blueprints of the place. She lit a torch she brought with her, and knew exactly where she was going.

The basement was where the bodies had been kept. Equipment collected dust, a complete skeleton for study had fallen lack of attention, but otherwise it was like any other medical study. She searched the cabinets, and found mostly useless documents. She was about to give up on the whole endeavor, until she came across a simple attendance sheet. The dates matched what she was looking for, and she quickly packed away the documents.

When she closed the cabinet, she wasn’t alone anymore. Her light fell on a man standing next to one of the operation slabs . She had her rifle at the ready. The man held his hands up, to show that he had no weapons with him.

His face was scarred and his hair gray, but otherwise, he seemed just a normal man. It was still uncanny to have a stranger waiting for her here and she kept her weapon trained on him.

“This is probably what you’re looking for,” The man said, and placed it on the desk between them.

She never took her eyes or her rifle off him as she approached the table. A glance showed it was a portfolio of documents bound together. Carefully while keeping an eye on him, she flipped it open and leafed through the documents. They were records, mostly attendance records for the university; attendance logs, some handwritten notes by a student, observation of studies. They had one thing in common, a student’s name.

“Angela Zeigler,” She read aloud. She wasn’t seeing the connection she should be making.

There was another document, blueprints and autopsy notes. Incantations. Locations and drop off points of graveyards and burials dates. She put the document down.

“This is ungodly,” she said.

The man nodded. “I can tell you all about it,” he said.

***

The first thing McCree did once he left the Summoner’s home was go to an old pub. There he could get a meal, a drink, and more importantly information. The location was known to be a gathering spot for people in his line of works, at the intersection of enough roads and townships to be a useful spot to find work. It was good to have places to meet people in the same professions.

McCree threw down a gold coin on the counter and ordered a hot meal and a cold drink. The good stuff hidden in the back, he told the bar tender, not the watered down drinks in the tap. The coin was more than was needed, but since his affliction, McCree made efforts to avoid touching or carrying silver. The bar tender gave him a look but his meal arrived in short order, the drink was good enough. His appetite had become ravenous, another symptom he noticed since he was cursed, but he held off on ordering more food. He wanted to make the rounds first.

He left the bar carrying several pints and set them down on the table in the back corner. All the occupants wore black, and the familiar emblem to his. He put the drinks down in front of them.

“First round is on me,” He said.

The other hunters eyed him closely, not so much as touching the cups. So they were worth their salt.

“Ain’t no cursed bargains here,” He said, “Just looking for information.” He said, holding up his hands.

They watched him closely. The large one ventured to inspect the drink, then drank it heartedly. The others followed. He was all mass and muscle. The others, more tepid, started to do the same.

“What do you want to know,” One of them said gruffly. She was older than most hunters, with stark white hair. Middle age didn’t come by without some experience or sense.

“Just some pointers on some work,” He said. It was best not to talk about their prey with citizens around. It tended to spook the locals. “Specifically one that’s been around a while and become particularly nasty.”

“You a thrill seeker or just confident?” She said, gingerly grasping the handle but not drinking.

“Neither, both.”.

“I’ve heard of one.” She said. “No one’s been able to kill it and anyone that’s tried hasn’t come back. I’ve warned my crew away from it, almost got Bob here.” She gestured to the large man to the right. The scars on his face and neck looked like claw marks.

“Ya gonna tell me where it is?”

“It’s your funeral.” She said, then told him where to go.

 

 

As usual, things hadn’t quite gone to plan for McCree. For one, instead of finding himself hunting a demon, he ended up barricading himself in its den while said demon waited angrily outside. The salt circle he had place outside the cave entrance that meant to keep the demon from escaping was currently his primary defense in keeping the demon out. He was also bleeding heavily from his shoulder where the talons he had come all the way here for had torn into him. He really needed to stop letting creatures claw into him, that was how he ended up cursed in the first place. Of all his hairbrained schemes, this one was quickly rivaling his worst one yet.

The only reason the demon didn’t tear down the door because McCree had left a line of salt in front of the only entrance and exit, in the hopes of trapping the demon inside. Unfortunately, the demon had been outside in the trees, watching him boobytrap his home. Only training and reflex kept the arrow it fired at him from landing between his eyes.

McCree’s flash grenades came in handy, blinding the creature to keep it from firing, but it didn’t need sight to find him on the ground. Hand to hand, the demon had the advantage. It was faster and stronger than him, which was why he had tried to trap it in the first place. In the fight his gun had been knocked from his hand and was injured on the shoulder.

Instead he had ended up climbing into the demon’s den because it was the one space he couldn’t reach. It was a cave with a small door propped up to keep the daylight out. A flimsy piece of wood but it was enough to keep the demon from seeing him as he made preparation and thick enough to at least slow any incoming arrows. Outside he could hear it pacing, and occasionally hiss at the burn the silver of his gun left from when he tried to grab it.

“How long are you going to stay in my home?” said the demon.

Mcree finished tying the bandages he was using on his shoulder. He hadn’t expected it to speak. Then again, the most adept demons, remained so by tempting and manipulating. Still, there were few hunts that had actually spoken to him. He had been able to glimpse some of it when the struggled in the moonlight. In their fight he had seen the familiar pale eyes, the long fangs, and unnaturally cold and dead-like skin, but the overall form still appeared to belong to a man.

“I reckon till I’m good and ready,” McCree said.

He heard something on the other side he thought he heard the demon sigh.

“I was not looking for a house guest,” The demon said.

For a while they past the time exchanging barbs. McCree was surprised how quick witted the demon was. Lighting a match he looked around the small den. He expected all manner of animal bones from past meals, even human ones. Instead the den was rather clean and tidy.

The space in the cave was the size of a small room and furnished like one. There was a small table with a cup and dishware. After lighting two more matches, he also found a book, a tools to care and craft arrows, and other paraphernalia to keep a home and for some time. The only thing missing was a candle; being nocturnal the demon had no need for one.

Plucking a blanket from the ground, he wrapped himself to keep warm as the night chill settled in. He was on the less superstitious few that didn’t fear the things of monsters. Being cursed had some advantages, primarily that he couldn’t be cursed more than he was.

“Don’t tear up my house,” The demon said grumbling something about manners.

McCree continued exploring the small home, louder with his rummaging. The demon cursed but could do nothing.

Occasionally, once his eyes adjusted to the total darkness (wanting to spare his remaining matches) he would comment and ask the demon about the items he found.

They past the time for a while like that, McCree asking questions and occasionally getting answers but mostly snide remarks. If he peaked out through the gaps in the door, he could see that the demon had gone from pacing to sitting as close to the salt line as he could get. Hours passed, and they both reconciled that they were stuck in their current predicament. The hunter would not leave and the demon would not abandon his home.

“If you’re going to spend the entire night in my home, could I ask you one thing?” The demon said.

McCree peaked up. He was about to fall asleep. He knew he needed to stay awake but, found himself beginning to doze off until he spoke. He could tell and likely that was why he decided to speak then. McCree thought it was strange he would make a request, but his interest made him pay all the more attention.

“Shoot,” he said.

“If you’re going to rummage around in there I ask that you leave one thing alone. It’s the letters at the back of the cave.” He said.

McCree picked his head up. It surprised him the request would be so sentimental.

“Who are they from?” He said.

Several moments passed. McCree thought his question would go unanswered.

“My brother.” He said.

“Well I’ll be,” McCree said. “So you remember being human.”

Part of him was tempted to go back and read the letters, but decided against using his remaining matches. In the daylight when the demon had to stay out of the light, he could read them then. The demon affirmed that he could remember being human.

But when he asked for details the demon refused. He even refused to answer what his name was. A smart move, since many creatures could be bound or trapped with their name. It also meant he needed to be careful himself.

“Why do you hunt?” The demon asked.

“Because there’s money in it.” McCree said and it was an honest answer.

“There’s plenty of other ways to make money. My family had been wealthy.”

“There’s better ways to make money, but at least I’m helping people. My skillset is pretty specialized so it’s not like I can go into many trades, and soldiering don’t quite sound right to me.”

“You hunt monsters when you yourself are one. I smell it on you.”

McCree was quiet then. He heard the demon laugh on the other side. He made a point of ignoring him for the rest of the night.

He awoke after the sun came up, and fell asleep again until mid-day. When he looked out the door again, the demon was no longer standing there, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think he left. Likely the moment he stepped out of the den it would be there find him the moment he stepped over the border.

Instead he decided to prepare. He found his gun lying just outside the salt. The demon must have dragged it over with a branch, because the weapon was concreted. Quickly he grabbed it and examined it. All the bullets were inside and there was no evidence of tampering. The demon expected a battle again that night and McCree was not willing to disappoint him.

He reloaded his ammunition, making sure he was prepared. He stood and stretched as much as he could within the confines of the cave. When he was bored he explored more the small den. He came across the letters, but he couldn’t read the language they were written in. He decided to place them back where as he found them. Then when there were no more preparations to make, he slept until nightfall.

He awoke to a loud thud outside the door. The demon had grown tired of his houseguest, and wanted to set things in order. He could see the moonlight shinning down on him, ready to reach it’s peak. He took off his cloak before stepping to the threshold.

“I could fire an arrow even at this side of the cave.” He said, “No need to cower now.”

“Same here,” and he waved his gun.

The demon stepped back to give McCree enough space to let McCree walk unhindered. At least giving the implication he wouldn’t be clawed to death the moment he stepped over the line. He was still weak in the shoulder that was his dominant hand. His aim would be compromised as well as his strength and reaction time.

“I’d honestly love to give you a fair fight,” McCree said, “But can’t under a full moon.”

Regardless, he stepped over the threshold, not as a man, but as a wolf.

***

 

Life as an immortal had few surprises. For one, Jack always seemed to find himself in the company of witches and carrying out their wishes in one way or another.

“Did you speak with the Huntress,” Moira said as Jack entered the laboratory.

She stood, as always, in her laboratoryn. She waved a hand and the image displayed by the cauldron faded, just as Jack saw a glance of the Witch of the Wilds. Several mirrors were arranged so that she could spy on who chose. Not even Jack knew the full reach of her view and knew it was better to assume she could always see what she wanted at any time.

On the table was her latest experiment. Years ago, Jack had been the poor dead soul being examined on a similar table. He felt sympathy for this next victim. Moira’s form had changed dramatically since then. She had not been exempt from her own experimentation, her research was egalitarian in that way, and her unnatural form was why she had her familiars complete her tasks in the outside world for her. It also freed her to spend the majority of her time on her work. Though he suspected from time to time she slipped out to commit horrors he didn’t want to know about.

“Yes,” He said flatly. “I gave her the documents.”

“Good, we can get started with the next phase then.”

Jack took his place on the farthest side of the room, away from her experiments. In not so subtle ways he made his contempt for magic and all its exploitions known, even the magic that kept his dead body still moving. Moira ignored his glare as she worked.

“Why bother with all of this?” He said finally.

“Did you forget our plan already,” She said, cutting open the cadaver. “I may have to examine your head, maybe separate from your body.”

He shut his mouth at the threat, and fumed silently. The body that Moira experimented with Jack had dug up from the cemetery. Seeing his work used for these means unsettled him no matter how many times he saw the deed done.

The body flexed its hands. From experience Jack knew here came the worst part. Moira was preparing the equipment for the final resurrection. The thing would howl, it would struggle to put together the final moments, however it died, with waking to see its new maker, and the gap of nothingness in between. The worst ones never bridged that gap and were nothing more than a stumbling horde.

Moira had plans for those too, but since perfecting her process, such failures were few and far between. Jack had seen enough of her experiments to count Gabriel lucky, even if he knew he didn’t see it that way.

They had still been students then. Moira and Angela had still been naïve to the wealth of insight and power their abilities offered. The university had seemed so grand at first, before Moira found their restrictions chaffing. Sometimes she could look back on those times without bitterness, though rarely and far between.

The body on the table kicked and spasmed to life. The howling Jack expected was starting to stir, first from a contraction of the muscles and vocal cords flexing as the life came back into it, then to something horrific as the mind returned. The screams disturbed him, but Moira merely stared over the thing, observing the fruits of her success.

“It happened fast this time and the rejection rate is far reduced,” Moira said with pride. “I think we’ll be able to show off our work soon enough.”

He didn’t know if she spoke to him or the rival she imagined from years ago. As the thing writhed and began to slacken in its resistance, accepting that this was real somewhere in the fog of its mind, he told himself at least it would be over soon.

The body was alive, sacrilegious a life as it was. It breathed, in time it would speak, but the way a ghost imitates life. As Moira found pride in her success, she remembered that feeling of failure years ago, and would not let herself feel it again. It had only been compounded later, when she found out Angela had cheated at their little game.

“If you’re just going to keep glaring how about you do something useful,” Moira said..

Before Moira could give him more orders, Jack walked out of the room to find something to busy himself with. He was tired of digging up graves.

The living body on the table looked up at Moira, but paid it no mind. She prepared for the next stage of her experiment.

***

Night had fallen and Amélie resumed her hunt. She rode late into the night, and continued through the early hours of sunrise to reach her destination. She stopped and pitched a tent only out of necessity.

She slept for a short time until the sun went down, then looked over her map to chart the rest of her journey. If she followed the map accordingly, she should be at her destination before the next sunrise.

The man’s information had been enlightening, but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was given freely. There was an ulterior motive at play but that itself was valuable information. The Witch had allies, but more importantly, she had enemies too. And those enemies may well work with her. Where she was headed was to the nearest sea port. If the information she had was true, than the Ghoul would stop in the port soon.

When she entered the port city she mindful to change her clothes beforehand. She wore a cloak to hide herself as she walked among the people. Making efforts not to seem suspicious, she occasionally bought goods from the stalls as she made her rounds through the market and watched the ships come into port.

“My dear. If you want to blend into the crowd, you’ll have to look more natural than that.”

Amélie spun to find the voice, but saw no one. The stall was empty, but the voice had sounded so close to her ear.

“You won’t find me there,” Said the voice again but the results were the same. The only thing she saw was a lantern overhead. As she looked at it longer, she realized voice indeed was indeed coming from the flame that burned with a faint blue light, “Looking for me?”

Amelie didn’t like being mocked, and the voice was having fun at her displeasure. She had lost the element of surprise and her target was toying with her.

“What gave me away,” Amélie asked at last.

Another laugh came from the flame. “The scowling for one.”

So she was being watched, but couldn’t find from where. It was different from what she felt in Alderbraum. Likely some magic viewer she had triggered. It wouldn’t surprise her if everything the King had told her had been reported back, but here, she had no sense of the magic at play.

“Why not meet face to face.” She said, best provoke a situation where she could have the upper hand. Out in the open with all these people, not that she cared about their safety.

“Like this?” Amélie spun around again, and found an old woman, looking at her.

The woman stood only inches away from her, enough that she could make out the white hair, an eye patch, and most telling was the tattoos under her eye. She could also tell that she was looking at a glamor. The Ghoul wasn’t standing in front of her, but she was making it known she was aware of and could easily reach Amélie.

“No,” she said revealing no emotion, “I don’t care for tricks by witches.”

Staunchly, she turned away from the glamor and began to leave. It appeared in front of her again, but she kept walking. She only stopped when the glamor spoke again.

“My ship will come into dock by tomorrow night. We can talk about the Witch of the Wilds then, if you’re willing to tolerate another witch for an hour or so.”

“So long as it’s worth the time.”

The glamor disappeared and the noise of the market returned. She realized that none of the marketgoers realized what had happened. It seemed the witch’s magic extended to shielding their conversation from the townsfolk.

Deftly Amélie turned and found an inn to stay for the night and made arrangements for her horse. She was tired of camping in the woods.

 

As expected The Ghoul’s ship arrived into port the next day. It was disguised as a fishing vessel, the dreaded black flags changed to that of any other chartered vessel, earning no second glances from anyone in the port. The only reason Amélie knew was because she saw the woman coming off of the ship, and the strong sense of magic coming from the ship. Likely there was a glamor shielding the entire ship.

“You didn’t turn tail and run,” said The Ghoul, commending her just for staying. “I was half expecting to find no one here.”

Before she could say anything, The Ghoul turned and waved her to follow. She was leading her onto the ship. Amélie didn’t move.

“Is this how far your courage goes?” She said, “If I wanted to dispatch you I wouldn’t do it in my own home. Come, I have tea.”

Her instinct told her not to follow. Even as an old woman, a magic wielder was dangerous, more so on the home turf. But the witch had a point, her display yesterday meant she could have rid her at any time and much less to give her the chance to prepare for their expected meeting. Begrudgingly she stepped aboard.

Above deck, the ship seemed the same as any other. To complete the image of a fishing vessel there was even a large of haul of fish being taken in the sailors. Below deck was when the illusion ended and she knew she had the right woman.

The captain’s hold looked like any other Witch’s den. Herbs and ingredients covered the walls in jars. A bird flew to her shoulder, clearly her familiar. The lanterns on the wall shone in off colors in green, blue, and violet reflecting that they were enchanted flames. She was in the presence of a learned witch.

The Ghoul offered her a seat, then got to the topic at hand. She asked why she was looking for the Witch of the Wilds. Amélie answered her honestly and The Ghoul didn’t bat an eye. Then she asked why Amélie had searched for her.

“You sent out a hunt against her years ago. Not many have forgotten that.” Amélie said flatly.

“From what I recall, only witches knew about that and it was called off soon after.” She said.

“I like to be thorough in my research,” Amélie said “Do you care what happens to the Witch?”

“I think what happens to her is a result of her own actions,” She said, “But I’m not heartless enough to let other witches suffer for her mistakes. If things get bad for her, none of us are safe.”

“Like your daughter” Amélie said.

For the first time The Ghoul began to look like her namesake. The light from the flames dimmed and began turned read. Easily the situation could turn badly, but she refused to take back the comment..

“I haven’t spoken to her in years.” She said flatly. Her tone warning not to broach the subject again.

“But you keep tabs on her by being mindful of the Witch,” She said, “You’ve stopped many of the city’s attempts to capture or kill her.”

“And is that what you’re after?”

Amélie had pushed the line as far as it would go. Depending on how she answered next, The Ghoul would become her enemy or ally.

“I’m after stopping her harm. How is up to her and perhaps you.” She brought out the documents the dead man had given her.

The Ghoul had looked them over saying nothing as she went through each and every page. Amélie had added her notes about the graveyard, and other rumors she had heard. If her suspicions were right, something would happen to the city soon. She included a piece of the lab coat she had found at the medical school, it had the name of another student’s name she saw repeated in the records. It wasn’t as obvious as Angela, but she could tell there was a connection. Then The Ghoul confirmed what she had suspected.

“This has a trace of another witch,” She said, holding out the piece of the lab coat Amélie had handed her with the notes. “One still active. Someone else has a hand in this.”

“You said whatever happens to the Witch endangers all of your kind,” Amélie said, “Especially the ones closest to her. I’m sure you’ll know a way to warn your daughter of what’s coming.”

“

“I know you only want me to contact the Witch through my daughter.” She said decidedly, “I could easily make sure you never leave this ship.”

“You could, but I’m not the only danger to her. If you play things right, I could even be an opportunity to get your daughter back from her.”

The Ghoul thought over the documents for a while, closing her eyes. The tea in front of Amélie colled as the steam faded as the fires dimmed then eventually brightened, announcing she had made a decision.

“You should be more careful about the witches you decide to track down,” She said at last, “It might turn out badly for you one day.”

But the threat rung empty. The Ghoul dismissed her and rather rudely told her to leave the ship.

Before the next day Amélie left the port and started her journey back to Alderbraum. Soon the Witch would be forced out into the open. Now at last she would have her confrontation with her target.

 

 

***

As a young girl, Fareeha had grown up looking at the starry sky from her mother’s ship. She had seen most of the world from where tides carried them and she had seen and experienced more than most by her adolescence. Tutored under her mother, she learned the same magic that had granted her the feared name of The Ghoul. Still, she found herself looking up at the sky night after night.

On a particularly dark night where the stars were the brightest, she caught the glimmer of something shooting across the sky. The light was too dim to be a shooting star, and it was strangely close. With a simple levitation spell, she was floating well above the ship, past the mast and the sails. As she rose higher, she could see that the light was a lantern of a witch on her broom, drastically losing altitude and on her way to falling into the sea.

Fareeha called out to the witch. She was struggling to slow her descent, exhausted and at the end of her magic.

“Come here,” she shouted, and focused on a spell to change the witch'pull the witch toward her.

Steadily she slowed and redirected her course toward the ship. Carefully, she lowered them both down onto the surface of the ship.

 

“I received a message from my mother,” Fareeha said as she entered their home in the Wilds.

Angela looked up from her spell book. She had spent more time in the library, preparing her plans after calling on her allies, frustrated in their languid response. They were dragging their feet after everything she had done for them. Answering their calls, granting their wishes, just to be abandoned in the end in her time of need. Well they could rot if they couldn’t be grateful.

“I thought you weren’t talking to her,” Angela said.

“I’m not,” she said, “She sent me a message anyways”

Fareeha recounted her mother’s story of how the huntress had visited her and the information she conveyed. The man the huntress had described she recognized and the threat his presence conveyed. Angela did as well.

“Moira is making herself known then,” She closed the book harshly.

The Witch of the Wilds had built her reputation on outsmarting those who wronged her. Try as they might in the end, according to all the stories, the Witch got the upper hand one way or another. Angela had told Fareeha several times that she wished she was so lucky.

Fareeha sat down next to her. She remembered year ago, chased out of the city after her healing was revealed to be from magic. Finding no refugee in the world, and finally being pushed to take her chances across the sea. She had never flown that far, yet she figured it was better than facing persecution in familiar lands. Better she drown out there than be burned in the courtyard not far from her former university, Angela told her later after she was rescued and safely aboard her mother’s ship.

“Did she mention anything else?” Angela asked.

“She told me to leave here. Obviously I’m not,” she said. Not without Angela she meant because Fareeha knew she would never leave the wilds or her grudge against the city, even though she wished Angela would.

“Is that all she had to say?”

“That’s all I cared to hear,” Fareeha answered.

In hindsight, she could have done things better. While she never regretted starting a life with Angela, she had left things messy with her mother. They had fled her ship one night without a word, because she hadn’t wanted to disappoint her or explain. Instead, she looked for her and even went so far as to launch an edict for Angela to hunted down as a rogue witch. Hurts were made that could have been prevented, Fareeha saw that now, still the results were what they were and were.

Since they would have no safety in any coven, Angela began to craft one for them. As her notoriety expanded, so did those who sought her out to fulfill her their hopes and desire. In return they promised loyalty to her for when danger arrived. She was finding out that that plan was not as foolproof as she thought, Gabriel being the first and only one to show real loyalty. That was how Angela saw it as least, Fareeha thought it was more the fact he had nowhere else to turn to with his condition. She pitied him for it.

Angela sighed, “I don’t think I can stop her.”

Moira long ago had concealed herself from Angela’s scrying mirror and no incantation she used worked to reveal her. They had studied the same texts, so long ago in their infancy of their witchcraft. Most of the spells Angela knew, Moira knew a counter for and likewise.

“Maybe we should leave this place,” Angela said at last.

Fareeha looked up. She almost didn’t believe what she had heard.

“If we leave would she stop?” Fareeha said cautiously.

Angela shook her head. “No, she wouldn’t. She’s always been competitive.”

Fareeha sighed. “Let’s finish this then,” she said. “Afterwards we’ll leave.”

She squeezed Angela’s hands in her own.

 

***

 

Satya read from a book as Olivia wrapped a cloth around her wrist. The mark burned still and was now a constant dull ache. The cloth was wrapped in a balm to help reduce the pain. It did little but she appreciated the effort.

“We need to leave soon,” She said.

“I know,” Olivia said, “Everything’s ready now. We’ll leave once it’s dark.”

For the second time, McCree barged through their door. He looked worse for wear than the first time, his shoulder stitched but wrapped in bandages and his clothes torn by sharp claws. He didn’t give a greeting and he slammed down the talon on the table.

“You were actually able to get it,” Olivia said with more surprise than McCree appreciated.

“Can you cure me now?” He said, sitting uninvited in an empty chair.

“Oh no. This won’t help with that.” Olivia said, picking up the talon and examining it.

Satya kept reading her book, but glanced to see the frustration on his face.dd

“Then why the hell did you send me out!” he said. Olivia didn’t pay his fury any mind, still examining the talon. “You actually got a good one,” she said. Then tossed into a bag for later.

“She lied,” Satya turned to the next page.

McCree fumed. They were right after all, though he still didn’t like being cheated, he didn’t have the upperhand in this situation. It seemed all sorts of monsters were getting the better of him.

“Did you kill it?” She closed her book and turned her attention was on him.

“I got the job done,” He said not meeting her eyes.

Neither woman said anything. From under her work tableOlivia picked up a bag and tossed it at him. By reflex he grabbed it with his dominant hand, hurting his injured shoulder. He hissed and placed the bag in his opposite hand.

“We’re leaving,” she announced, “And your coming with us,” already walking out the door and fully expecting him to follow.

Satya walked out the door and Olivia followed her. Left alone, still holding the bag, he reluctantly he followed. What other chances did he have for finding a cure.

Brigitte fortified the gates. Only her city watch was out and about the city, the townspeople adhering to the strict curfew, more out of fear of the night than the King’s soldiers. She didn’t blame them and it made her work easier.

Even with the firsthand stories she heard from the king and her Watchmen present during Junkenstein’s invasion, she never believed the stories. Understanding of the sciences and medicine had come a long way in the last few decades. The old superstitions could be explained and put away like the oldwives tales they were.

Her own improvements and work as a smith made her confident that the way of superstition was on its way out, and her tools from her forge would help guide that. Still, she had no explanation for when the well water throughout the city turned blood red or the plague blamed on the Witch had suddenly returned and grew fierce. It spread in half the time it had before, infecting more people.

The word among the people was the Witch was angered by the Witchunter the King had hired, and though she had not been seen in weeks, it did not soothe the Witch’s wrath. She had even pressed for the guard to pull more shifts and the city’s fortifications be improved.

Not only did she try to reinforce the gate, she had made schematics to improve it. She made the gate stronger, reinforcing the wood with steel.

She had already sent her plans to the King to reinforce the armor of his soldiers, though she doubted she would get a response. Her other plans had been turned down before, because of the massive cost. That didn’t change her faith in them, or that the King had put her in charge protecting Alderbraum. She wasn’t the head of the armory and guard for nothing.

Satisfied with the progress being made by the builders, Brigette headed back to her work. The room was littered with schematics. Better ways to reinforce the city, the walls, the castle, and the armor of soldiers. But Brigette’s engineering didn’t stop there. She had plans to improve the city’s irrigate and water ways, even to the very roads the people walked on everyday. Of course, the king’s patience and treasury couldn’t necessarily keep up with her speed of invention.

Still, when the King asked for improved weapons and defenses to repel the Witch’s curses, she had plenty of plans to draw from. Now that she finally had the funding she needed, what she didn’t have was time. The fountains were still unsafe to drink from. The cattle that had survived the first blight grew sick and died, the welts far worse than the first time. The clergy and scholars debated the signs, but somehow came to the agreement that Witch’s plans would come together in a full moon’s time. Not on Brigette’s watch.

She looked over one of her plans. She relit her forges, then got to work.

 

***

Moira remembered that dark night. They had made the trip several times in the past, but if everything went according to plan, this would be their last trip in secret to the graveyard. Under the moonlight, they were able to find the graves they were looking for without help of a lantern. They had made this trip enough times to know the lay of the cemetery even in total darkness.

In the retelling, Moira left out why she had loved these moments to the graveyard, though their discovery meant risk of everything. That it was one of their few times alone and follow their passions, both their work and each other. When she was still naïve enough to trust.

The ground was still soft, only just filled in. It meant their work would be easier as they dug. Angela handed Moira one of the shovels they had brought with them.

“To think we might miss this soon,” Angela said, breaking the ground with her shovel.

“Should the urge strike you, you could always profit by selling bodies to the surgeons,” Moira said. She also added that a pig cadaver would do, since most of them were little better than butchers to begin with.

Along with the shovels they had brought a double wide wagon to carry their cargo. It had held their cloaks and equipment. The groundskeeper they had paid to ensure that no one would disturb them, just as they had been undisturbed on past nights. Likely, the only ones they might run into were other students. There had been a shortage on cadavers, an irony that the work of doctors had been too effective. There was not enough for the students to practice on, and none for the particular studies she and Angela pursued.

At last her shovel struck the familiar sounds of a wooden coffin. They both stopped.

“You’ll keep your word about our wager?” Moira said.

“I always do, “Angela said, not looking her in the eye, instead returning to the work at hand and digging out the remaining dirt.

 

“But she cheated,” Moira said, “She sabotaged your friend’s resurrection and left you whole to claim victory.”

Jack hung his head as she listened to her story. It was odd to hear of his and Gabriel’s resurrection and have such a small role in it. He and Gabriel were pawns in a war that didn’t care if they died in a futile conflict, just as they were lab rats for two women playing out a rivalry through arcane arts.

In the version Moira told, she discovered after her experiment failed that several of her notes were missing and her equipment had been tampered with. Most telling was that she found the serium she had prepared to have been tainted, causing its failure. Only one person had access to her equipment, her notes, and ultimately her trust. If there had been a deeper relationship there, Jack didn’t ask.

They were in a different laboratory than the one he had awoken in years ago. Moira herself looked starkly different from those first bewildering moments. Years since his resurrection, he found that she had not spared her own body from her own experiments, and as a result looked unnatural, like the banshees he heard of as a child. He did not know if she stayed secluded because of the attention she would draw among the public, or as the pretext for staying with her work. Either way, it had taken him many years to find her again, once he decided she was his last option.

While Gabriel had been cursed in a state between life and death, Jack was returned whole. The only difference was that his hair had turned white and the scars from the conflict that killed him were still prominent on his face. A light sentence at first, until he realized what immortality really meant. A life alone, with every connection doomed to watching them grow old or sick, and the one person who understood his condition hating him for it. Sometimes, he feared if he would still be alive at the end of all creation.

So he came here, to this woman that he had seen only once before when he awoke alive when he should have been dead. Who brought back his lover as a monster, but blamed the other woman for it. As he listened to her story, he heard her bitterness, her grudges, but more importantly he saw how she had improved her understanding. If she had learned how to perfect life, perhaps she would be close to undoing it. Her magic could both drain and replenish life at her choosing.

“Help me carry out my plan, and I’ll give you back the death you want.” She had promised when he first came for her help, and he intended for it follow through.

Now they were finally leaving the laboratory to unleash just what they had been building.

***

The night of the attack, not a soul walked the streets of Alderbraum. The King had called for a strict curfew and wild rumors had spread through the city of the witch’s wrath and how she would seek her revenge. Even the guard who kept watch remained tense and frightful, so she made sure they were more frightened of her.

“You better not be falling asleep, soldier,” She said to one of the guards. He immediately straightened. Anyone caught by the Captain would be forced to stand watch outside the gate. The guard was awake and alert.

Brigette had faith in her fortifications, but Moira had also been prepared. The captain saw something out of the corner of her eye. But when she looked nothing was there. Still from time to time she would see the blur. Then her men began to collapse.

It happened suddenly. First the right flank and then the left. She heard their armor clank as they fell to the ground. The soldier she had reprimanded fell beside her then she understood why. She felt her strength begin to drain, stolen from a shadow fading into the dark.

Brigette raised her shield as the phantom faded again. Her remaining men fell before they could take their stance, making it difficult to maneuver without stepping on them. She had no time to inspect their condition. A footstep behind her gave away the enemy and she swung her mace, but it only hit the wall. The last she saw was an orb going through the air the felt the last of her strength drain away. She realized her men were not dead, but were too weak to move.

From the ground she saw the shadow appear. She looked like nothing of this world. Brigette had never believed stories of the Banshee, she hardly believed the stories about the Witch until her curses began, but there was no doubt who she saw. With her clawed hands, she pulled the lever to open the gate. The horde had begun to enter the city. The dead were home, and would not be forgotten again.

The dead entered the city. They walked down the streets they had once known in life, some still fresh, some generations old. Familiarity didn’t change anything. What they lacked in consciousness they made up for with single minded pursuit. They clawed at the boarded doors and windows.

The first buildings they reached were shops and smiths. The first line of homes were next. Before the dead could approach and large shield appeared stopping their approach. It stretch across the city, seeming to reach toward the sky. The dead that pressed onward found it impossible to continue.

“It will only last a short while,” Satya said to Fareeha.

The others she had already sent to their respective positions across the city, no doubt already putting their assigned roles into motion.

“That should be all I need,” Fareeha said. She invoked her armor, and she began to float above the air. If the shield held and she could conjure enough power, she could obliterate the horde in one strike.

Down below, invisible, Olivia ran through the city. Undetected, she scoured across the city searching for the banshee. If she could find and incapacitate her, then the threat to the witch would be gone and Satya would have completed her promise. Easier said than done.

As the witch had warned her, tracking spells didn’t work. Even her witchfinder tools couldn’t locate her so she had to rely on old fashioned reconnaissance. Setting her device on the roof of a wineshop, she made a survey of the last tower.

Cloaked, she walked the halls of the tower, finding unconscious guards as she climbed higher and higher. They were not dead but far from it. Something had nearly drained them of their lifeforce, but in a manner different from Satya’s abilities. This was something born of dark magic not light.

She reached the top at a long hallway. The remaining guard was here lying on the floor, including the captain. She could tell by the crest on her shield. What surprised her was that the captain was looking up at her when she should have been invisible.

“Got you.”

Her spell wore off. Olivia was revealed and she felt something beginning to take her strength.

“I don’t need you interfering with my plans,” She said.

Her strength was fading, but she was fast enough to pull her receiver out of her waist pocket. In the next instant she was on the wineshop roof. She breathed deeply. When she landed, she almost feel off the rood and she wasn’t strong enough to use her cloaking ability just yet.

“That could have gone better,” She said and started formulating a plan.

 

 

“Teleporter.” Moira said.

Brigitte was still on the ground watching. She had seen a second woman come and go out of thin air. How many ghosts walked the earth she thought, but now she was hearing a crashing sound outside. It almost seemed like there was an army outside. All her fortifications had been for naught.

Moira stepped looked out into the city and cursed. Just over the ledge she could see some construction of light that seemed to stretch up into the sky but little else. Then something far smaller started to float up into the sky.

The ghost disappeared again. There was a commotion outside and the walls shook. Cannon fire sounded, but she couldn’t understand from where, then stopped abruptly. Then all manner of commotion; an animal, a rifle shot, but what she heard clear and with the most dread was the advancing battle cry of the King.

“He can’t be that stupid” she said.

 

Fareeha always loved the clear dark night sky. She had first learned to fly on her mother’s ship because she had wanted to be closer to the stars. One night looking up at the stars she had first seen Angela flying through the sky, fleeing the city that had cast her out. Despite the trouble on the seas or the ground, the skies were always free.

Once she was high enough, Fareeha conjured her power, drawing as much as she could. The spell she had learned was inspired by the battlements she had seen at sea. She cast down a barrage down on the horde of the undead. It rained down like canon fire. The spell took all her focus and concentration, but if it worked the battle could end here.

She didn’t see the blast before it hit. They were shadows taking her strength from her, she felt herself begin to fall as her attack failed. She had never fallen out of the sky even as a child, she would be dammed if she was going to fall now. Refocusing she slowed her decent. On the ground she could see Moira as the source.

She fired a shot at her, but before it hit Moira faded into the shadows. Before she could fall further, Fareeha felt her strength returning. Soaring on hellfire wings, Angela was flying to her to heal the damage. The shield collapsed but they were more than ready to rain hell on them.

 

Over the past few weeks, there probably wasn’t a single rule McCree hadn’t broken. Not only had he kept a curse a secret, he had made a pact with a woman possessed by a dragon and fugitive working with her. He had let a demon go after their fight. He had accepted the Witch’s magic as she healed his shoulder so that he could use a firing arm again, and the potion she gave him to lift his curse, but only if fought for her. And that was where he found himself now.

Black smoke began to gather suddenly. Just as quickly, it gathered together to make a man. McCree jumped at the sight, raising his gun. The man looked more dead than alive like the horde.

“Don’t even think about it,” He said then showed his arm.

The same mark the dragon woman had tried to conceal glowed strongly on his decaying flesh, then pulled the cloak back over his arm again.

“I got this,” He said, more so to get the dead man to leave. It was bad enough having to deal with the horde, much less to deal with that one of them was on his side.

“I’m not here for you,” He said. McCree almost missed him add “and him”. The mask kept him from seeing his expression or where his gaze fell, but that was probably for the best based on what he saw of his arm.

“Get lost if you’re not going to be helpful“

He fired off a round at one horde that managed to pull it’s hand through the cracks of the shield. They would be breaking through soon. Whatever plan they had in the sky better happen soon.

Before he could fire a round at the next creature, he felt his muscles contract. The familiar pains brought him to his knees as the transformation began.

“It’s not even a full moon.”

Turning his head he could see the Witch beginning to take flight above him. She was speaking an incantation but his mind couldn’t focus on what it was. In the Deadman’s hand he could see wolfsbane.

McCree should have known better than to trust a witch.

 

Hidden in the church tower Amélie took aim. Shining in the darkness, the Witch only made finding her target easier. The information The Ghoul had given her told warned about the attack on Alderbraum. It had given her the opportunity to prepare, choosing the best location where she could have the full vantage of the scene. She had told the King and his guard that the Witch would be coming into the city, but not the full context of why. Between the banshee and the horde she would be distracted. The people were out of the way so that they couldn’t interfere. Finally her plans were going to come to fruition.

Once the Witch was in range, supporting the armored woman, Amélie took her shot. She felt that ideal rush when her shot found its target. It wasn’t the glory that she cared for or the gold. It was the moment of accomplishment when she caught her prey, like a wolf feasting on a doe. She had first felt that feeling years ago, when she had broken the neck of the beast that crept into her family home, killed her husband, and tried to kill her. The way she saw her own face reflected in its dead eyes had been euphoric.

She had still been feeling that euphoria right until the moment a searing pain tore through her eye. The pain in her head felt like it would split open entirely. She writhed on the floor, almost falling out of her snipers nest. The pain was unbearable as the curse she triggered took hold. Later she would remember The Ghoul’s words.

 

The shield collapsed at the same moment the Witch fell out of the sky. The horde broke through in a flood, but a large wolf began to tear through their ranks. The reaper shot at the ones that slipped past, while keeping the wolf from coming too close to the homes where the people hid; it recoiled at the wolfsbane left on the houses returning back to the undead. Approaching the battle, dressed in long forgotten armor, the King and his army approached the fight. The dragon placed her sentries carefully along strategic points, while carefully Olivia made her way carefully to the gate.

Fareeha heard the gunshot then saw Angela falling. She was diving before she even decided to do so, reaching to trying to catch Angela before she hit the ground. Her wings had been extinguished, and she was doing nothing to stop her descent. In her gut she feared the worst before she put it into words.

Just barely she was able to grab Angela’s arm, and slow their fall just enough to stop the impact from killing them. They hit the room of a home, as Fareeha used to make her armor take the brunt of the impact as they crashed through it. They landed heavily, even with her armor her head ached but she didn’t care. The hole in the roof let in enough light to show blood.

She was still alive, but badly wounded. Angela’s eye was gone, and it took her moment to realize it was a bullet wound. A single shot fired over a great a distance. They hadn’t kept a close enough eye on Amélie in their worry over Moira. The protection spell she had placed on herself was the only reason she was still alive, but magic could only do so much.

“I’m not a healer,” Fareeha said. That kind of magic never came easy to her even as a child. It didn’t stop her from trying with everything she had.

 

Moira had heard the shot and saw Angela falling. The crash was loud, and the gaping hole in the roof was easy enough to find. Through the shadows she was able to close the distance in mere moments.

Inside the home she found the other woman was trying a spell that would never work, not for the amount of blood that pooling. The gunshot had not been a part of her plans and was an outside variable she had never accounted for. If this was a victory, it was a moot one by fluke or happenstance. This was not how she wanted to settle their little contest.

Quickly she cast a spell she hadn’t used in many years, an orb of light entering and brightening the room. She left the room knowing she was helping her enemy. Angela may have cheated her, but Moira wasn’t going to crown herself with an unearned victory. The night was already a failure. Like the dead she had brought back, best to leave it all to rot.

Cloaked, returned to the tower. She found the lever again, this time undisturbed. As she pulled it, she heard a voice from the ground.

“That won’t be enough to keep them out.” Brigette said.

“I thought you were knocked out,” Olivia said, crouching down.

A retort was too much effort, not when she couldn’t even stand on her own. She still tried both anyways. Through will alone she was able to get back on her feet.

“There’s a mechanism on the gates. You have to trigger them, I’ll show you how.”

 

Satya’s sentries made good work of keeping the dead from entering the rest of the city. They walked with mindless purpose, forward until her sentries finished them off entirely. Or at least burned them enough until the could no longer walk. They still writhed on the ground clawing and moaning.

“Detestable,” She said but she let her sentries do their work.

As she focused, she opened a portal and walked into the room where Fareeha and Angela had fallen. She walked to where the two women were huddled than crouched down.

“I can move the two of you out here,” she said.

Fareeha looked up at her.

“Give her a little longer to heal.”

 

When the people of Alderbraum finally came out of their homes they found a dreadful sight. For years they decided not to speak of the dreadful sounds they had heard or the damage left on the city. The King’s soldiers were sworn to secrecy, but late at night or when they had too much to drink the horrors they had seen would come through. The burials had taken ages. The grave diggers had gone man. Some still swore that the limbs and hands still clawed at them they were tossed into the funeral pyres. It was gruesome work, but some took refugees in the rumors that the Witch was dead.

Amélie took the gold she was promised. It weighed down her horse, but he didn’t instead to travel as far as he had before. She was still growing used to her limited depth perception, especially in her aim, she thought as she adjusted her eyepatch.

In hindsight, she should have realized The Ghoul had placed a rebound curse on her. It would take her time to relearn to aim with her remaining eye, but even as she removed the cloth to look at herself in a room far away from the city, she still felt the thrill of the kill.

 

“it’s gone for good” Olivia said untying the cloth from Satya’s arm.

The burning had faded after the battle and the skin was beginning to heal. She felt relief, no longer worrying what the curse would do to her, or worrying that she would be called again. Now they could go home again.

“Damn it all,” McCree shouted as he looked over the shredded pieces of his hat.

The first thing Olivia would do when they got home was improve the defenses around their home to keep out future cursed hunters she thought.

“I turned some many times without ruining it,”

Olivia snickered at his distress. He hadn’t even yet realized the faint mark on his arm. Best to let him figure it out on his own.

His curse had been alleviated but at a cost. Rather than transforming at the presence of the moon, it was at a Witch’s beck and call. His mind wasn’t on this fact, instead it was on the pouch he had been given. It was a rare powder, strong enough allegedly, to purify even the oldest of demons but leave the victim still alive. He tested it on the talon still carried with her. She was loathe to give it up since it was a powerful ingredient, but finally she relented to stop his whining. When it turned into a simple claw, McCree thought his trouble might have actually been worth it.

 

Looking up at the daylight, Gabriel saw the ash from the pyres even from the distance of the abandoned graveyard. How strange that he was the only body left from the graveyard and that was only because his coffin had been empty. He could disperse himself, become smoke like the rest, but he was still separate with his eternal decay and rebirth.

“If it would do any good I’d strangle you,” Gabriel said.

Jack didn’t move from where he was Gabriel kept looking at up at the sky.

“I wouldn’t blame you” Jack said.

“I’ll give you till the fire goes out,” He said.

 

A heavy traveling cloak was enough to keep their faces hidden. Fareeha had already gathered the horses that would take them to the nearest city, and from there they had several options of where to go, a ship from the nearest port could see them far and away from here.

“Where do you want to first?” Angela asked.

Her face was still wrapped, in part to disguise her but also to cover the eye that was still healing. She kept her cloak close to her so that they looked like a simple pair of travelers.

“Have you ever seen the seas to the north?” Fareeha said.

She hadn’t, but she took her hand willing to go anywhere.


End file.
